


Worst Kept Secret

by lovetheblazer



Series: Morphine as Truth Serum Verse [2]
Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morphine as Truth Serum, New Relationship, Sick Darren, crisscolfer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheblazer/pseuds/lovetheblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because it’s Sam’s birthday and she’s the best and thus pretty much the only person that could talk me into revisiting this verse. Part of the Morphine as Truth Serum verse. Darren’s first day back on set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worst Kept Secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ticklishblaine (lightsandsparks)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsandsparks/gifts).



> It's been several years since I've written anything in this verse, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm a little rusty. Also, I know the other parts of this verse are written in past tense and this is present, but my brain has permanently made the switch in writing tense and there's no looking back. Maybe one day I'll finally get around to editing MATS and rewrite it in present tense.

“Are you sure you don’t want to just sleep over tonight?” Darren asks coyly as Chris begins gathering his things to leave. Given that they’ve spent the better part of their weekend at Darren’s condo, that turns out to be quite a lot of things to gather.

“Don’t give me the puppy dog eyes, Mister. I’m already immune,” Chris grumbles, still searching for his missing shoe. He finds it has disappeared to underneath Darren’s couch. If Chris didn’t know better, he’d think Darren maybe hid it there on purpose. Darren’s place is a bottomless pit of junk to be honest, sparsely furnished but with musical instruments, hoodies, and video games covering every available surface, meaning he can’t be positive the disappearing act was intentional. Chris had naively thought after five days of recuperating at his house, maybe Darren would want to sleep in his own bed. He’s been regretting that suggestion ever since the moment they entered Darren’s place. Frat boy chic is really not Chris’s thing, even if Darren doesn’t seem to mind the clutter.

“Yeah right, if I so much as got a twinge in my side, I bet you’d move in,” Darren shoots back cockily.

“Wait, does your side hurt?” Chris blurts out before he can stop himself.

“Ahaha,” Darren laughs, long and hard. “Nailed it.”

 _Dammit._ “Just for that, I hope you really do get a stitch in your side from the laughing. It would serve you right,” Chris huffs. He finds a sock under the couch that is definitely _not_ his but that is clearly growing some sort of exotic fungus or mold. In his haste to get it out of his hand, Chris winds up throwing it squarely at Darren’s face.

“Now, that’s just _mean_ , Chris.”

“Not my fault you live in a petri dish,” Chris shudders. “I’m leaving now. For real this time.”

Darren pouts. “Our call time is so early, though. Why would you voluntarily get up an extra hour early just to drive all the way back here and pick me up?”

“Because like your surgeon told you already, you need lots and lots of rest. And if the last three nights have taught me anything, it’s that you aren’t going to get any rest if I’m sleeping beside you in the bed,” Chris points out, blushing involuntarily as he dreamily recalls their nocturnal activities from the last few nights. “I mean seriously, it’s like pain meds make you extra horny or something...”

“No, _you_ make me extra horny, duh,” Darren says, as if the answer is obvious. Chris gives up on even trying to hide his blush. Instead, he rolls his eyes, slides on his second shoe, and climbs to his feet.

“Aren’t you even going to give me a little kiss goodbye?”

Chris bends over and kisses his forehead. “There. Now go to bed.”

“Chris,” Darren whines. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Well, if you want a real kiss in the morning when I come pick you up, guess you’ll have to be a good boy and go the fuck to sleep like I told you,” Chris throws over his shoulder as he heads for the door.

“Yes sir!” Darren shouts enthusiastically.

That’s more like it.

* * *

Chris’s alarm clock comes much too soon the following morning. He’s utterly exhausted, mentally and physically, and work seems far from appealing. Still, the thought of seeing Darren again is enough motivation to drag himself out of bed, even though the sun isn’t up yet and his house is cold where his bed is warm.

He takes a lot more care with showering and dressing than typical, usually preferring to arrive on set in comfy sweats with wet hair and glasses, since he knows that hair and makeup will have him looking presentable before he’s needed for filming. Even though he’s already spent a week seeing Darren at his worst, sick and crying and miserable, Chris still wants to maintain some illusion of effort and attractiveness. It’s not particularly rational, but there’s not a lot of room for logic at 5 am.

Darren, unsurprisingly, doesn’t bother with the same level of grooming, not that Chris really minds. He’s strangely reassured by knowing that the Darren he’s dating is still the same guy he’s spent months giggling with on set and tour buses, his best friend who is just... _more_ now.

“Okay, so you remember our deal, right?” Chris introduces as he takes the exit for the Paramount lot.

“We make a lot of deals, Chris. I seem to remember you promising me one hell of a kiss, for starters.”

“Rain check,” Chris murmurs, cheeks flushing hot at the prospect. He really hopes they both get done filming at a reasonable hour because if he has it his way, he really wants to be able to take his time with that particular task. “But for now, I need you to focus.”

“On?” Darren asks, quirking up an eyebrow as he considers Chris. “If you want me to focus on us kissing, I’m way ahead of you,” he adds with a wink.

“No, dummy. I need you to focus on how we’re not going to announce our coupledom to the entire set. I know you can be sort of a blabbermouth, but the last thing we need is this getting out to the press. What happens in our trailers when we’re alone is one thing, but...”

“I quite like the sound of that,” Darren interjects, his voice pitched an octave lower. It’s... _distracting_.

“Darren,” Chris grumbles. “Focus. Dear god, do I need to start slipping Adderall into your coffee or...?”

“I mean if you feel like sharing? Sharing is caring, after all,” Darren shrugs. “But yes, I got it. Keep our sexy times and feelings on the down low. That’s what you were trying to say, I assume?”

“Mostly, except that I would have said it much more eloquently,” Chris huffs.

“Sorry if I hurt your writerly feelings. Allow me to make it up to you with a kiss?” Darren suggests optimistically, single-minded in his desire.

“I’m driving.”

“We’re stopped at a red light.”

Chris sighs and glances around, confirming they are mostly alone. Los Angeles traffic can be a bitch, but before 6 am, they have the streets all to themselves. Just for a moment, Chris feels like he and Darren are the only people in the world, even.

Darren, impatient as always, grabs hold of Chris’s shirt and reels him in for a kiss.

“Good morning,” Chris whispers against Darren’s lips as they both come up for air.

“Fuck yeah, it is.”

* * *

Darren’s arrival on set is like the second coming of some minor prophet. Every time he walks into the room, he’s mobbed by cast and crew alike, all of which come armed with hugs, gifts, baked goods, and a million questions about how he’s feeling. He doesn’t seem to mind it, though, thriving under the attention. Chris loses count of the number of times Darren’s shirt comes up so he can show off his tiny scars proudly. If Chris weren’t so worried, he might even feel a tiny bit threatened or jealous.

Darren _seems_ fine, but Chris knows better. That level of attention is even exhausting Chris, so Darren must be struggling, surely. After all, he’s only a week out from having his appendix removed and he’s still on antibiotics and barely eating. Plus, if Ryan and co. think Darren is even stepping _foot_ in the dance studio today for rehearsals, they are absolutely crazy and-

Okay fine, maybe Chris is being a little overprotective, but who could blame him? Darren is an idiot and Chris has seen him at his worst already. He knows that Darren sucks at taking care of himself, and Chris is ready to step in and be his voice of reason for a change.

“Alright alright, enough fawning, Darren will still be here tomorrow,” Chris says as he swoops in, extracting Darren from a circle of no less than twenty rapt faces.

“But-” Darren starts to protest, though he’s easily silenced with one icy glare from Chris.

“Sorry guys, I’ll come find you after lunch, okay?” Darren changes course and apologizes instead.

“We’ll see about that,” Chris whispers in his ear as he steers Darren towards the waiting golf cart and carefully lowers Darren into the passenger seat of it.

If Darren is unhappy with the state of events, he doesn’t let on, leaning into Chris and even resting his head on Chris’s shoulder. It only confirms what Chris has already assumed, that Darren is worn out and fading fast.

“Can you walk?” Chris asks softly when they arrive at his trailer less than a minute later.

Darren lifts his head and peers at Chris curiously. “Um... yes? Why wouldn’t I be able to? They didn’t operate on my legs.”

“Obviously you aren’t feeling well. I knew coming back to work so soon was a bad idea,” Chris sighs.

Darren chuckles. “Babe, you worry too much. I’m totally fine. Why - did you think I wasn’t?”

“But all those people and you put your head on my shoulder and dancing is too vigorous when you have stitches,” Chris blurts out, his words coming out as jumbled as his thoughts.

“...are _you_ feeling okay?” Darren manages, looking at Chris like he’s suddenly grown a second head. He reaches out his hand to feel Chris’s cheeks and forehead in turn, mimicking a gesture Chris has done to him many times over the past week. “Nope, no fever. Guess I’m just dating a weirdo,” Darren announces quite cheerfully.

Chris is still so concerned that Darren is potentially overdoing it that his earlier plea for discretion and privacy is momentarily forgotten. He helps Darren to his feet, ignoring Darren’s protestations that it’s unnecessary as he half walks and half carries him into his trailer.

“Chris, if you wanted to be alone with me, you could just ask, you know...” Darren teases as he stretches out on his couch. “No need to kidnap me.”

“It wasn’t a kidnapping, I was just worried about you!” Chris clarifies, feeling equal parts frantic and retroactively silly over the fuss he’s making.

“I think someone was just jealous at the attention I was getting. Admit it, you wanted me all to yourself,” Darren sing-songs.

“I admit nothing,” Chris manages. “But seriously, I don’t want you to push it. You have to tell me if you are feeling bad, okay?”

“If I promise, will you come over here and kiss it better?” Darren all but purrs.

“Does that mean there’s something wrong? Are you in pain?” Chris presses.

“Yeah, I need you to kiss my dick better,” Darren deadpans.

Chris groans. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best. You love me,” Darren grins.

“We’re supposed to be keeping that under wraps, idiot,” Chris hisses.

“Honey, if anything gave us away, it’s the stage five clinger routine you’ve been pulling all day,” Darren points out.

“Stage five clinger?” Chris frowns.

“Wedding Crashers? Dude, how have you not seen that movie? It’s awesome. And yeah, no offense, but you’ve been stalking me since the moment we arrived on set. I’m surprised you didn’t follow me into the bathroom stall, actually.”

“So, _that’s_ where you went!” Chris jokes. “Was I really being that obvious, though?”

“Um... check your phone,” Darren replies cryptically.

“...my phone?” Chris is puzzled, but Darren simply shrugs and looks sheepish, so Chris digs his phone out of his pocket. He gasps at the number of texts, most of which read some form of “Congratulations!” or “About fucking time!”

“Darren,” Chris groans. “You weren’t supposed to say anything!”

“I _didn’t_ ,” he swears. “Lea guessed because she’s has some creepy x-ray vision thing for when people are getting laid, and then you started shadowing me everywhere on set and more and more people put it together, and what was I supposed to do: lie?”

“Yes?” Chris says, though he feels strangely relieved to have it over and done with so quickly.

“Sorry,” Darren apologizes, all puppy dog eyes and pouty lips. It’s Chris’s kryptonite, he’s learning. “Maybe _I_ should kiss it better, then?”

Chris finally caves. “I mean I guess since the cat is already out of the bag, there’s really know reason to hurry back to set...”

“No matter what we do, they’ll assume we’re fucking, so... Might as well live up to their expectations,” Darren agrees easily.

They don’t really have time, but Chris doesn’t care. It’s his first time being late to set for filming, and he doubts it’ll be his last.

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 comments are a writer's best friend. Or in this case, second best friend after Sam. It is her birthday, after all ;)
> 
> [Share Fic on Tumblr](http://lovetheblazer.tumblr.com/post/143458611280/worst-kept-secret)


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